The House of Despair
by A.Garbo
Summary: A thousand souls seemed to have lived their lives in Mills Manor; those same thousand souls may have never left. To this very day, folks keep out of the premises of the old abandoned house. They say there lives a very old man, alone with his memories and spirits of his departed family. The stories are in everyone's mouth. But are the stories just that? Stories?
1. Chapter 1

The House of Despair

A thousand souls seemed to have lived their lives in Mills Manor; those same thousand souls may have never left. To this very day, folks keep out of the premises of the old abandoned house. They say there lives a very old man, alone with his memories and spirits of his departed family. They have sighted him wandering the extensive gardens, walking calmly among the rose bushes that had become wild, growing as they pleased, where they pleased. When in spring, the whole town would be taken by their scent.

The Mills had been a quite wealthy family for many generations. They had picked nothing but the very best for the construction of their home. The house itself looked like a cathedral, with stained glasses, tall, narrow windows and heavy oak doors. The walls and columns were made of the most luxurious marble, now covered by ivy and dust; the floors of sentient woods brought from Brazil by Portuguese merchants in their carracks; thousands of corals and pearls had been necessary to build the immense and presently web-covered chandeliers which have illuminated a dozens and dozens of balls, banquets and gatherings of all sorts. Sculptures were all over the place, be it the garden or the many rooms, embedded in the walls and depicted all sorts of maritime mythical creatures.

Although cluttered with objects, books and memories, the house was empty, void of life…that is, until one October day of 1972.

Robin Locksley was back to America, this time with his son. His job had been demanding, which meant he was always travelling. Before his wife died, he was kind of free to do so. He'd come and go as he needed, but with a child things weren't quite as simple. A child needs roots, so he quit his job and did almost anything that would pay the bills. Being a bit of an outdoorsy man and nature lover made him quite keen on outdoors activities.

An old man took him as an apprentice in his carpentry. He learned everything about the art of carving, sawing, nailing, assembling, varnishing, polishing, smoothing and engraving. But the old man retired, and to continue on his work there was only Robin.

He now had a growing business. He had built himself a small cabin. It was nice, quiet and was not too far from the huge haunting manor crowning the town that he could see from his small, wooden porch.

People came all the way up the hill to request his services. Cabinets, tables and other kinds of furniture were made by his hands. His work was always skilful and of great quality. He took pleasure in what he did, provided he had the best materials. In his spare time, he would carve animals and other toys in scraps of wood for his boy to play.

Robin and little Roland were happy and led a simple and tranquil life, until one day, when Mills Manor came to life.

The carpenter and wood-scented man had been hiking with his son on a beautiful Sunday autumnal afternoon. The sun was low in the sky and the tree's leaves were rustling softly at the soft breeze. Roland liked to step inside the small puddles of water along his way. Robin was glad he had picked is rain boots for the walk. All of a sudden, the scent of roses invaded the air. Robin picked the strange scent and looked around. They seemed to be close to the old mansion people told him about. He had listened to their spooky tales about the strange happenings and apparitions. Robin was sceptical and was almost fed up. Roland was actually fascinated.

"Smells good, papa!"

"Indeed!"

"Maybe there's a garden!" said the boy. "Let's check it out." And before Robin could stop him, the child took off running.

"No, Roland! Do not enter that gate."

But Roland did and as he ran, Robin tried not to lose sight of him.

Roland was always ready for an adventure. Ever the curious child, he liked to go around the place, discovering little creatures and nooks he could later use to play hide and seek; however, he wasn't allowed to go any further and was carefully watched by his dotting father.

Robin ran and ran after his child only to find him looking at a huge rosebush in full bloom. White and light pink roses crowned the plant and the wondrous perfume that had hypnotised them into entering the old manor's grounds was even stronger there.

"Look how pretty they are, papa!"

"They are very beautiful, Roland; but we shouldn't be here. People who live here may not like our presence."

"It's quite alright." Said a voice behind them. Robin turned and saw an old man smiling at them. There was something otherworldly and anachronic about him that Robin couldn't quite figure out. Maybe it was the way he was dressed. The clothes looked awfully old fashioned for a man living the seventies. He looked like some version of Count Dracula, only he didn't have a cape. He was walking in a black silk long-tailed coat, buttoned to his chest, he had a vest underneath it and a scarf carefully pinned with a brooch around his neck. He was wearing trousers of the same material as his coat and carefully shinned riding boots. His eyes were dark, his nose round, and his mouth thin, displaying a kind smile. There was a strange sadness and nostalgia look on him. He had lost something very dear to his heart that could not be returned to him and Robin knew that look to well. He could see it every morning when looking into the mirror above his bathroom's sink.

"I apologise for the intrusion, sir. My son is quite the curious lad. I'm awfully sorry if we caused any inconvenience." Robin said, adopting a very polite tone.

"Not at all, good man. I was rather pleased to find people here. It's been so long since we had visits around. Normally they just vandalise what they can and take off."

"I'm very sorry to hear that."

"Oh, nothing that can't be dealt with! Anyway, I saw your boy was admiring my roses and I couldn't help but come outside and welcome you both."

"That's very kind of you. I'm Robin Locksley. I live nearby."

"We are neighbours, then! How wonderful! It's truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Locksley. I'm Henry Mills." And they shook hands. Robin recognised the man's surname from the stories told down the pub. He had been told the only inhabitant of the house was always be watching by the window for intruders. In his head, Robin had drawn him to be an old grump, chasing kids with his can. He had never been so wrong about someone. Henry Mills was a very elegant man, he did not yell or chase anyone around. "So, little one, what's your name?"

"Roland."

"That's a very nice name, Roland. Do you like my roses?"

"Yes, they're pretty!" the boy excitedly said.

"You know, they are my daughter's favourites."

"What's her name?"

"My daughter's? Regina." Robin was surprised by the sweetness in the old man's voice when he spoke his daughter's name. Maybe the daughter was the origin of Mr Mills' sadness, Robin thought. Had Regina gone somewhere far away? Or worse? "My daughter and I, we planted these on her birthday. She was always very fond of them."

"Roland could you go and play a bit so I can speak to Mr Mills for a bit?"

"Yes, papa!"

That said and Roland ran away, barely able to wait a second more to explore the extensive garden. The two men were left alone.

"Walk with me, sir." Henry Mills asked. Robin complied, glad he would somehow take a better look at his surroundings. No doubt it was a beautiful garden. There were jasmine and rosebushes almost everywhere; big magnolia trees, tall oaks and cedars. Oh, how fairy tale-like all seemed! He almost swore he could see little creatures running around. Sometime after the beginning of the walk, he felt as if being watched. He could feel a few pairs of eyes on him. He looked in the way of the manors windows and saw only the curtains of the surely magnificent rooms, waving. But why would they wave if there was no sign of the windows being unlocked? Henry Mills decided to interrupt his thoughts.

"I'm sure they fed you a lot of tales about this place back in the town. I must confess, some of them might be true."

"Oh?"

"Ask away, Mr Locksley. I feel you are about to burst with questions."

"I don't mean to pry, sir; but I was wondering, is your daughter unwell?"

"I might have given away too much with my sorrowful tone. I lost my daughter a long time ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"But my loss was somehow different. Different than yours, at least. I sense loss in you both as well. It was your wife, wasn't it?"

"How do you know?"

"A respectable family always takes a walk together on Sundays. I'm aware of the more modern ways, but still I think the best way to spend all of our blessed days is with our family. As a young man I was told that any man who loves his family will put his business on a side to devote this one day to the ones he loves most. A day out of seven… Too little time to enjoy something so precious and so ephemeral if you ask me. I know so because I lost them all. One day you have them, the other you don't. All happened so swiftly, I'm not even sure if I even had them in the first place."

"I understand." Robin whispered.

"I know you do, sir. That's why I came to you. Because you understand. And because you'll understand if I ask your help."

"My help?"

"We should go inside and have a drink, you'll need to sit down for this."

And so they entered the manor, after having called Roland. The child wondered around the entrance hall, taking the house's interior beauty. He looked at the pictures on the walls and the objects displayed in armoires. Robin couldn't help but walk slowly when passing by the objects, suit of armours and paintings.

Henry Mills stopped by a door and invited them in. Robin and Roland entered and were astounded by the utter magnificence of the room. The carpenter had never seen such splendour. He was marvelled at the sight of the columns sculpted from the rich sentient woods. Such quality, such grandeur! How opulent and magic all was!

For a moment, Robin's eyes saw a small boy running from one side to another through the mirror on his right side. He look towards the door and around, seeing no sign of a boy anywhere.

"Please, sit down. A drink?" Mills offered.

"No, thank you." Robin declined as he sat down near the fireplace, on a luxurious couch. The master of the house, however, remained standing.

"I guess I should start from the beginning."

"I'm listening."

"Once, a long time ago, my wife – Cora is her given name – and I had a beautiful, innocent child; a girl, our Regina." Henry Mills declared pointing to the portrait above him. There was a young woman with very dark hair, olive complexion, whiskey eyes and blood-red lips, dressed in the finest white silks and carrying a magnificent bunch of white and pale pink roses that brought up the rosiness of her cheekbones. Robin was overwhelmed with such tranquil beauty. He was very much attracted by the stunning creature depicted in the painting. She looked very much like a queen. He could make out the nobility, the poise, the determination common in most royal portraits he had seen in museums and such places he had visited, a long time ago. The sense of anachronism was even more present in the portrait. The dress was not from the twentieth century. How could this be the daughter of the man standing right in front of him? "We brought her up in the finest manners and values. She could be the wife of a king, no one would notice her origins. My wife made sure of that. Cora was a very ambitious woman, marrying our daughter to a king was her life goal. You see, my wife was born in a poor family. I was just the handsome prince passing by. She would do anything to be sure her daughter would not suffer the same deprivations she had in her early years. I understood her reasons, I didn't agree with her methods. She was very cold, very strict with our little girl. A single mistake and Regina would be severely punished. I was afraid for my daughter, but I couldn't do anything. I would freeze most of the times, not knowing what to do. I loved my wife and I loved my daughter. We lacked nothing and yet my wife found the need to want more and more and more… When I noticed she was whoring my daughter to every single and available bachelor in town" Henry Mills said, his voice faltering with emotion. "Regina felt crushed and with good reason. I was always there for her. I gave her the comfort I could. I would try to make it better, but, at some point, Regina just gave up believing me; believing things would be better in the future. I was so angry at Cora, but she had my heart. I was utterly divided. I was weak."

"I wouldn't say you were weak." Robin countered.

"I'm afraid you would, good man. If only you knew… the pain, the sorrow that covered this house… it was like the mud that one tries to wash and wash again but it just won't come off."

"So what happened?"

"As all girls tend to do, my Regina fell helplessly and completely in love. And how Regina loved! Oh, you should see her then… How her smile lit the house, how happy she was. Because, when Regina loved someone, she loved that person with her whole soul. It's pure and unselfish. She was like a star…"

"And like a star, she lived surrounded by darkness."

"Indeed. The target of her affections was not suitable to a lady of her rank, according to her mother" the old man said, tears gathering in his dark eyes. "The lack of her mother's approval took a great toll on Regina, even though they continued to meet in secret."

"And you weren't against the relationship?"

"No; I knew the boy was a modest, serious and hardworking fellow. He was kind and gentle, qualities which certainly sparked a flame in my daughter's heart. I never tried to persuade her to proceed with caution, nor did I advise prudence. I trusted the boy, I greatly esteemed him and his family; respectable people, the Colters. But above all, I liked the way he acted around my daughter. Their relationship was all about respect and companionship, something I never had with my wife and desired to Regina. Because I know what it is like to not have it."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It was common back then. I loved Cora, only Cora didn't love me. I was the ladder to a better life and in return she gave me a family. I was grateful, happy even. But I understood that the life I led just wasn't what was best for my daughter. Regina wasn't meant to lead a luxurious life. She liked nothing more than tend to our horses and work in the garden with me. She didn't getting her hands dirty. They had plenty in common and I wanted my little girl to be happy. Daniel Colter was his name." Henry Mills told Robin as a strange wind swept through the room and made the fire burning in the fireplace flicker. "To this day I swear I don't know what happened or how it happened. Regina left the house early to go and tend to her horse like usual. She found him in the stables, cold, not breathing. She turned him around and there was blood everywhere."

"He was killed?"

"I can still hear her scream echo through the property."

"I'm awfully sorry, Mr Mills."

"When we managed to finally rip her from Daniel Colter's lifeless body, we brought her home. From that moment on, she simply gave up. She wouldn't eat, she wouldn't sleep. Her eyes had lost the spark of life. Her skin became pale; she looked like a ghost. Pure devastation is not enough to describe my daughter's suffering that day and the others that followed. Cora never left her side. She tried to feed her, go get a reaction from her, a sign that she would be alright, that this was all just a bad time. That everything would go back to normal. Only it didn't." Henry Mills said, big soft tears flowing down his cheeks.

"How did she die?" Robin dared to ask.

"Cora found her; her wrists were slashed opened. She sheets were soaking red with blood. My daughter, my Regina, was gone in the most gruesome way."

"How terrible…" Robin murmured, lowering his head in reverence.

"My wife, usually poised and composed was screaming in horror. Oh, I can still see her. She picked our daughter up and laid her across her lap and sat there lulling her as if she were a baby again. I was heartbroken. But it wasn't the end. It was far from it, actually. After we buried Regina, Cora's mental state worsened. She would wake up screaming, scared out of her wits, terrified of something. She never disclosed what exactly it was. At some point, she wanted all mirrors covered."

"The mirrors, sir?"

"And the sheer fear that inhabited her eyes when she found one uncovered. But what terrified her most was the night, bedtime; the moment she saw the sun setting she'd begin panicking. 'Please, Henry, don't make me go to sleep', she'd beg. Whatever was tormenting her, it was doing it during her sleep. I heard her beg for her life, beg for a moment of peace, a moment to rest. She'd calm down the moment the sun would rise in the sky."

"For how much time did this went on?"

"Oh, weeks! I called a physician, he gave her several tranquilizers so she could sleep and recover her health. At this point she was not much more than skin and bones. Any sudden movement or noise would put her on the verge of tears. Fearing I'd lose her too, I decided to send her away. I bought her a nice cabin by the sea, with a small garden. She lived there with her maid. For a few days, Cora slept and ate, she seemed to feel better when I visited but it was not quite so."

"All that time, she never spoke to you about it? Nothing at all?"

"About a year after, we were sitting in the garden of her cottage by the apple tree and she finally gathered the courage to tell me. She said, 'Regina is not in peace; she cursed us' and that was the end of it. No details, no other remarks."

"Did she get better?"

"No, she just got worse, until her heart couldn't handle it anymore. Regina had been dead for a year. It was not long until I followed them too."

"I don't follow."

"There was nothing more for me in this world, only I didn't get to choose how to leave it. Every day I found it hard to breathe. I was getting weaker and weaker every day. I was far from being the strapping young lad that I once had been. And that's why I need your help. We're stuck here, her curse keeps us here. We can't move on."

"Papa, there's a boy here, can I go and play with him?" Roland asked emerging from behind the couch where his father had been sitting.

"Stay here, Roland." Robin asked firmly, turning towards Henry Mills.

But the old man wasn't there anymore.

Robin took Roland by the hand and walked away not even looking back. Yet, the little boy, clinging to his father's shoulders got to perceive the silhouette of a young woman with flowing dark hair looking out one of the windows in the house.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hey there! For those who asked here goes chapter 2! Enjoy! A special thank you to Karren. Love you, darling! :3**_

* * *

Marco, who was visiting, had put the kettle on. The water was almost boiling by the time he took it away from the fire. He knew the young father was a bit tense after his visit to Mills Manor. It was understandable. The atmosphere within its walls can be a tad overwhelming. But the old carpenter was sure he'd be alright. Robin hadn't give him any details. He had keep it to himself.

' _That house has as many secrets as the Sphinx and it was built centuries after it'_ , the old man wondered. If you ask around town, everyone has a juicy tale about that house on the top of the hill.

Tea was ready; it was time to get some information from that stubborn lad. He poured the tea into mugs and headed outside. Robin was sanding a desk, a very generous commission from the town's doctor who was remodelling his office. It was worth a pretty penny, Marco would say. Roland, as usual, was playing while his father worked under the shed next to his workshop. There was a nice comforting scent of sawed wood and varnish in the autumnal, chill air around them. It was an image that warmed Marco's heart. He was proud of his apprentice.

"Who taught you to make such nice things?" the old man teased.

"Oh, I don't know…" Robin teased back, giving the former carpenter a smug smile.

"Here's a cuppa. Nice and warm, maybe it'll life your spirits" he said, passing the mug into Robin's hands. "You've been much too silent today, not quite yourself since your visit to Mills Manor."

"You're right, but I don't really want to talk about it."

"Why not? Has Lord Henry Mills frighten you so you are unable to talk about it?"

"Lord… How do you know about Henry Mills?" Robin inquired, a bit shocked.

"Oh, I know many stories about that house. I know the story of his daughter."

"It doesn't really matter. I'm not going back there."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"You see, my boy. I was there once too. I went to the house, moved by my own silly curiosity. I heard Lord Mills' tale and like you, I ran away and I never came back. Today, I see I shouldn't have done that. Of all those people who have been there, I had been the only one who ever saw him from a close distance, who was welcomed by him and invited to enter his house. _The only one_ …until yesterday. That has to mean something."

"It doesn't mean anything. It just happened."

"A coincidence, my boy? There is no such thing in this world. Henry Mills asked your help –"

"I had nothing to do with his family or what happened to his daughter. I have my own burdens and worries." Robin told the older man, his voice louder from irritation. Marco seemed to understand his denial. He recognised himself in it. His anger and helplessness against the unknown, the supernatural, something he couldn't quite define and understand. But it was okay.

"I'll tell you this, maybe it will help you understand: I still don't know what Lord Mills saw in me that day to make him ask for my help. Maybe he was that desperate, but I have an idea of what he saw in you. Loss, kindness, courage and strength: words he knows too well. And he knows you might be able to disclose what happened to them, why they are still here, because that's what he wanted: the truth, to know why they are still there, the motive of this curse."

"Do you think I'm able to do it?" Robin asked before taking a sip from his mug.

"I'm sure. If not you, who else? Me? What does a person who never had anything or anyone know about loss? What I longed for, I never had. I am of no use to them."

"So, you really think I should go?"

"Yes, my boy."

Robin thought for a bit, sipping from his mug, looking away to the trees and the orange, red and yellow leaves on the floor.

"I'll go now, before I change my mind. Will you keep an eye on Roland? I promise I won't be long. I'll be back before supper."

"No problem." Marco said, smiling.

"I'll just fetch my coat and scarf."

Robin went to Roland, kissed his little head and told him to be good to Marco in his absence. He explained why he had to go as well as he could explain his visit to a haunted house.

He took off, climbing the hill briskly as if afraid of being late to his ghoulish rendezvous. He walked and he walked, each step heavier than the last. At halfway there he started to notice the smell of roses on his nose. He knew he was close then. As he arrived, he could no longer hear the sound of birds or the cars downtown. Everything was just silence, unbearable silence. He crossed the rusty iron gates, he walked the dirt path to the door and then he just went in, like that, as if people were expecting him inside.

The door had just opened and Robin found himself in Mills Manor's entrance hall once again. He felt silly, he didn't know what he was supposed to do at that point, how he could draw the ghosts' attention to him. So he decided to start shouting.

"Hello! Lord Mills?!"

Silence.

You could hear a needle falling without much effort.

"Hello!" he tried again.

This time he felt the air shift in lament.

"Hello, sir." said a small voice from behind him. He turned and saw a small boy with playful green eyes and light brown hair, dressed in a white pressed shit and navy blue shorts and a book under his arm.

"Hello, little man. What's your name?" Robin asked, cautiously, squatting to be at the level of the child's eyes.

"Henry."

"Henry… Do you know where I can find Lord Mills?"

"He's not available today, sir." The child says with innocence.

"Hum… well, huh…" Robin was speechless. How could possibly a ghost be busy?

"Would you like me to show you around the house, sir?" Henry asked politely.

"Huh, why not?" Robin shrugged.

"Right! Let's start on the library. This way!" Henry said excitedly, passing by him, running towards one of the closed doors, and not like he expected – for he had watched many ghost movies in his youth – he didn't pass through it, he opened it and passed through like a normal person would.

Robin stood there, still a bit stunned. But then, he shook his head, composed himself and followed the boy into the library. Upon entering, he saw an unending sea of books. Atlas, fictions, non-fictions, scientific treaties, medical texts, history manuals, works of the highest and lowest quality, classics and poetry. There was a bit of everything and everything was precious, he could tell. He noticed the hunting scenes on the paintings all over the walls that weren't covered by shelves. The armchair by the window had been a special place to someone in the past. He was ready to bet it had been Lord Henry's. By the armchair there was an old globe which was now obsolete. It was cold, dusty and dry. The window was big enough to light every single corner of the room which was nice. The landscape allowed the visitor to see downtown and the docks, boats and ocean.

He saw Henry sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace with a book on his lap. It was an Atlas, a map of Central America displayed on the page. He had his little finger going through the page, as if reading all the different and tiny names written on it. He could tell this child loved books.

"That a pretty cool atlas you've got there."

"It's not cool…It's at a normal temperature."

"Oh, I mean, it's rather entertaining."

"Oh indeed it is! Did you know Grandpa Mills has been in all of these islands?"

"Fascinating."

"Indeed, and the stories he told! Riches and pirates, adventures and animals we have never seen before!"

"That must have been very special to you."

"It was. Grandpa is the best storyteller."

"He is indeed. They used to live there, Grandpa Henry and Grandma Cora, before they came here. They lived in Puerto Rico. That's where Aunt Regina was born, in San Juan. They moved to Jamaica when she was still very little. And then, they settled here. They built this house." Henry said, his eyes saddening with each word.

"You don't like it here? It's a beautiful house…"

"It's not that…It's sad here. Aunt Regina is sad all the time. And angry" he explained.

"I see."

"But you're here now. I knew you'd comeback. I told them you would, they wouldn't believe it."

"Well, like you said, I'm back."

"I saw you with a little boy yesterday."

"Yes, he's Roland, my son."

"Will you bring him next time?"

Before this answer, Robin was not sure what to respond, he didn't know how all this would affect Roland and he wanted to be careful. It was enough trouble he was caught in this mess. Anyway, to save him the pain of making a promise he could not keep he saw two people staring at him from the doorway.

There was a man and a woman there, staring at him. Both of them wearing period clothing. The woman dressed in white and the man in grey. She has dark hair, very pale skin and eyes like two emeralds. The man had blond hair, tender blue eyes and very pink lips. Robin stood immediately like a child who had been caught in mischief.

"I'm sorry for coming unannounced." Robin tried.

"We didn't actually believed you'd come back, but we are glad you did. People usually run away and never come back."

"Not without good reason." Said David.

"We heard you, but Lord Mills is not available presently." Mary Margaret continued.

"My name is Robin Locksley."

"Yes, Lord Mills told us all about you. I'm Mary Margaret and this is my husband David Nolan. And that little sneak is Henry, our son." The child smiled widely as if thanking the woman's words as a compliment. "It's a true pleasure to meet you. Well, since Lord Mills is not here to see you, we'd be glad to help you in whatever we can. Even if it is not that much, I'm sorry to tell. Please do sit."

"Whatever information you have is good enough; better than nothing, I reckon." Robin said, while motioning to retake his place beside Henry. Mary Margaret sort of floated with her husband towards the armchair to their right. David sat and Mary Margaret took the place on the arm of the seat.

"Do you have any idea of what is keeping you here?"

"A curse." Mary Margaret answered like it was the most obvious thing to human knowledge.

"And do you have any idea who cast it?"

"We don't have an idea. We _know_ who cast it" said David, irritably.

"Please, David; don't be harsh. I presume my uncle filled you in on the subject of my cousin Regina."

"Indeed" Robin said, a mix of bitterness and sympathy marring his voice.

"It was her who cursed us all" the woman explained.

"And why would she do that?"

"We don't really know. We never did anything to her. Anything worth going such great lengths for, I'd say. I remember us discussing a ball we had attended a few days before. People had liked my dress very much. They said I was the fairest of them all, but I don't think Regina would be jealous about such frivolities. Not really! She'd tease but never hold some sort of grudge for not having the attention of the people in town. On the contrary, she was very discrete and was happy that way. Yet, her last days were far from peaceful or something near happy."

"Someone she had loved very much had died recently, I'd say she had good reason to feel sad and angry."

"Yes, but why curse her own family if she had no motive?"

"Maybe she had motive." Robin replied. "What do you remember of those last days?"

"Well…After Mr Colter's death, hum…maybe a few days later, Regina became ill. We called a physician. It was an infection, it was nothing incurable; it was but a little cough, maybe some residue from holding Mr Colter's body for too long after he was dead. He bled her and prescribed medicines, if Regina took them as she should I don't know, but I'd say she did, with her mother constantly nursing her to good health… Maybe that's why she took her own life. Maybe she just couldn't move on." That said, Mary Margaret took a slight pause to take a deep breath and she resumed. "I visited her often in her chambers, but she rarely spoke. I'd read to her. Regina liked reading… Sometimes I'd peek over the book and watch her eyes filled with hate, but then they seemed to soften the second she noticed I'd be looking back at her. She's smile; I knew it was fake. With Regina I could always tell. I'd ask her what was wrong and she'd always ask me to keep reading. The day before she died, I passed her door and heard her like I had not heard her during those days. She was shouting at Aunt Cora! Wrath, rage, pure anger, I swear!"

"Did you make up her words?"

"Just ' _I curse you all_ '. Of course I didn't think she had cast an actual curse by then. The next day she was dead, blood soaking her bed clothing. I had never seen anything like that. Aunt Cora was never the same; I saw her come apart. That woman had always been a tower of strength, nothing seemed to get through her or shake her. It took a great blow like that to break her to pieces. And she did. She really did."

"And Lord Henry?"

"He had to be the strong one for both of them. Regina's death somehow brought them together. But even that was taken from them."

"Your aunt died."

"Not until after a year after. I was surprised how long she survived, really. She couldn't sleep. Her heart failed from exhaustion. She was a shell of the woman she had been when I last saw her. She was terrified of mirrors and the sunset brought her near hysterics. Uncle Henry sent her to the asylum so she could get better, but it only worsened her condition. She couldn't hold a cup to her mouth, her hands were constantly shaking. She suffered greatly. Even now, she's still living the nightmare. She haunts the attic where she can't tell the night from the day. She does not dare to come down."

"What about Lord Mills?"

"He died when Henry was already five and Emma was three. He was a sad man, always thinking of his lost family. His true ailment was never discovered. I'd say he died of a broken heart. He'd ask for Regina. ' _Where's my little girl? I want my Regina. Fetch Regina, please._ ' he'd beg. I was with him when he died, I was holding his hand with one hand and trying to bring his fever down with a rag soaked with cold water with the other; he was looking at me and telling me this house would be mine as soon as he drew his last breath. I thanked him but I told him he'd live many years and all those foolish things we say to comfort ourselves when a loved one is about to die. Then he looked above my shoulder and smiled. His last words were ' _There you are_ '."

"He saw her." Robin concluded, receiving a nod from Mary Margaret as answer.

"Indeed. After he died everything went downhill. What we thought it would be our home, the house we had inherited from my mother's brother was something out of a horror novel."

"How so?"

"During the day it was quiet, light and peaceful. During the night there were screams, strange lights, air currents out of nowhere, evil laughter echoing through the halls, broken mirrors, misplaced objects; we'd feel someone touching our shoulders at times… To sum it up, all kinds of strange things. As if that wasn't bad enough, I saw my Aunt Cora before me; he face was pure horror, her hair was down and she was hugging herself like she was cold. ' _Please, run. There's still time. Run_ ' she said. I was so afraid I didn't sleep all night and I prayed, I prayed until daylight broke into my room."

"But it wasn't the end of it." Robin presumed.

"Far from it; it was just the beginning. I saw Uncle Henry, six months after. He was sitting right on that armchair by the window. When he'd come home from his business in town we'd have tea here. After tea, Uncle Henry would sit Regina and I both on his knees and tell us stories from the faraway countries he had visited in his youth with the help of that same old globe. It was a very special time. I had lost my mother recently and having my uncle and Regina there for me was very reassuring. We were like sisters. In her own way, she saved me."

"And you Uncle's…let's call it _visit_?"

"Far from reassuring. ' _Forgive her, this is not the person we know and love. She's a monster_ ', he said."

"What happened next?"

"In a snow day, I went out of the house for a morning walk. I loved walking when it was cold. That day, I went about the garden and the lake near these parts and when I came home, as I was trying to open it, I heard it be locked. I called out to whoever was doing it asking them to unlock the door. But to no avail. Then I remember, Regina and I used to do this as kids. Before tea time, we could be found wondering around the house, playing by the rose bushes, then Aunt Cora would come and call us for tea. We'd start running to see who came in first. In order to win, Regina didn't always played fair, nor did I, for that matter." Mary Margaret smiled, reminiscing. "We'd close the door on each other's nose, and the one locked outside would have to run to the staff entrance and run through the kitchen. That's how it was with us. And that's how it would be that day. Except the kitchen door was locked as well and this was far from child's play. To worsen things for me, a snow storm started the very moment I tried to enter the kitchen. I was found hours later, buried in snow in hypothermia. I died three days later of pneumonia. The last thing I saw was Regina's dark eyes, stabbing into mine, her face transpiring pure, burning wrath."

"So not only is Regina responsible the curse, she's the indirect cause for your deaths?" Robin asked.

"Not all. Henry and Emma were different. She loved children. She wasn't capable of that kind of thing. Henry died of Yellow Fever."

"And your daughter?"

"Emma was lost at sea a few years into adulthood. She was travelling to England with her fiancé. The ship she was sailing on wrecked and she went down with it. If she tells you the story, it come out less tragic." Mary Margaret quipped.

"I see."

"Emma and Killian are both here too. They occupy the music room. If the piano starts playing you just know it's them."

"Thank you for that information. I'm sure it will spare me a few grey hairs."

"I doesn't spare _me_ , though." David muttered. "I still don't like the _captain_ one bit!"

"Oh please, David. Not again!" Mary Margaret begged.

"I don't like him and that's final."

"It's been over a hundred years, David…"

"It could have been over a millennium, I'd still not like that chap. Captain, my _fiddle_! He can't even be considered a gentleman! He's a disgrace, a rogue, a phony and I don't like him. End of discussion." David ranted, punctuating his speech with punches on his own thigh and isdain dripping from his voice.

"David! Your manners!"

"Huh… I'm sorry. It's still a difficult subject for me to talk about. You see, they eloped without my blessing."

"I understand. How did you die, Mr Nolan?"

"I fell and hit my head."

Robin's brow went up.

"That's it?"

"I have to admit is a rather stupid way to die but I can assure you it is a totally legitimate one."

"Yes, I'm sure it is. Anyway, I've overstayed my welcome. I thank you for receiving me but now I must to go home to my son. Hopefully, Lord Mills will be available in the afternoon?" Robin asked, getting up from the comfortable couch.

"Yes, he'll see you tomorrow."

"Tell him I send my regards."

"We will."

"You _will_ come back, right Mr Locksley?"

"I _promise_ you, Henry" the man smiled.

The souls accompanied him to the door and stood there floating watching him exit through the tall oak door without looking back and little did they know someone was watching them from a very close distance. It was actually just a reflection away.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry I took so long to post another chapter, but it's difficult to manage time these days. I hope you enjoy and leave a comment. Tell me if you like it or not, I'd love to have your opinion.

* * *

That night, while Robin was reading a story to Roland after a warm, hearty meal, Mills Manor came to life. Candles and fireplaces suddenly lit, the mirrors that had been covered for centuries saw the oppressing dusty-grey sheets fall, and the air took a violent turn as if a door had just opened and the oceanic wind had made a colossal entrance. But that was not the case, it had not been the wind. Far worse; Lady Regina herself and her wrath flew through the manor and all knew for a fact it was time to abandon all the hope they had gathered in their hearts after Mr Locksley's visit. They all knew she was feeling betrayed; using her father to distract her while they talked to that man about the curse was way out of line. But it was a risk they were willing to take. Henry hid in the library and Mary Margaret and her husband in their chambers, Emma and Killian did not dare to make a semblance of a sound and Lord Henry was left to face the music.

"I had to, Regina."

"You let him in; better yet, you _invited_ him in!" the ghost dressed in white and floating black hair seethed, looking out the window, her back turned to the older soul standing behind her.

"I had to" he said softly.

"You had to go and try to undermine my plans for all of you once again. And yet again you failed. What is so difficult for you to understand, father? This is you punishment. Tis not villainy or revenge, this is what you _all_ deserve!"

"Regina –"

"You and that of all who stood under this roof!" she barked, turning from the widow to face her father. A pale square face with eyes whiskey brown and luscious plump blood lips were visible now, between two curtains of black hair.

"Please, Regina. I beg of you -"

"What you, mother and that insipid, little brat need to understand is that you brought this upon yourselves!"

"What good is it to keep us here, where we don't belong?"

"You don't belong wherever you are meant to be either. You don't deserve moving on, and neither do I..."

"Not even little Henry? I know you love him."

"I love him dearly, you know I do. He belongs with his family. Unluckily for him, that's us." Regina said, disdain dripping from her lips.

"Regina, I just want you to find peace. I thought that man could help us. All of us. He lost someone too, he understands what it's like. Maybe if he talked to you…"

"It wouldn't change the past! Nothing would change; what you all did to me, what you took from me…"

"Regina…"

"It was mother! I know it was her! And you helped her, you and that snivelling cousin of mine!"

"We had nothing to do with Daniel's death!" Henry Mills bellowed, losing his patience before his daughter's accusations.

"Oh, but you did! However small the contribution, you all had a hand on it. And I loathe you all for it."

With this Regina vanished in grey smoke and Lord Henry could finally breathe and see some of his tension out.

"How did she take the news?"

Mary Margaret had appeared right behind him.

"As usual: angry, heartbroken and feeling betrayed", he declared bitterly.

"Maybe if we gave her a little space; she's always been headstrong. If she were to see that we're trying to help her-"

"No, she thinks we're helping ourselves. Maybe Regina is right after all."

"We mustn't lose hope just yet, Uncle Henry."

"I'm tired, Mary Margaret. So tired…Tired of seeing my daughter like this, of feeling her pain and loneliness."

Mary Margaret floated towards the old man and caressed his shoulder comfortingly.

"Mr Locksley will make all better, Uncle Henry. He promised he'd be back to help us. And he will. This time we'll be able to fix this and Regina will see she was wrong in keeping us here. She'll see reason. She'll see we had nothing to do with Mr Colter's death."

Henry Mills sat by the window looking out to the garden dipped in the night's darkness.

"I just want my little girl back."

"Oh she's there, the Regina we all admire and love. She's just hurt and confused…and once we figure what really happen, we'll get her back. I promise you that."

"I'm afraid of what she might do to scare him off. He's our last chance. Our time is almost over."

"He's strong and noble. Whatever Regina will throw at him, he can handle it. They are much alike, I should say. I see a lot of her in him. The same selflessness, the same kindness… He'll know what to say and what to do when the moment comes."

"I hope for all our sakes, you are right."

Meanwhile, in the little cabin in the woods, Robin Locksley's character was about to be put to the test. A dark cloud of smoke moved around the house, uninvited. It was as if it was looking for something…or in this case, someone.

As soon as the dark cloud of smoke found Robin in the kitchen, washing the dishes from dinner. It was then that it took the form of Lady Regina Mills. The temperature of the room went down considerably, the lights flickered and the man by the sink felt he was being watched. He turned and was confronted with the ghostly apparition right before his eyes, mere centimetres from his face. He almost jumped out of his skin; he tried desperately to step away, however he end up hitting the sink with his lower back.

He could make up her pale face, her bloodied white dress and slashed wrists perfectly. Robin could say he was as terrified as he was marvelled at the sight of her.

"Lady Regina... I saw your painting in the house… I don't understand…How are you here?"

"You are not welcome."

"Pardon?"

"You are not to enter that house again. You are to leave us alone."

"Please, I can help."

"Stay away from Mills Manor."

"But I promised them I'd help them, that I would help you."

"It's my last warning to you. Next time you try and step inside that house, there will be consequences."

"I don't mind it, Milady. Whatever you come up with I can face it. I made a promise I cannot break, to them and to you. I'll do everything in my power to fulfil it."

The ghostly apparition let a dark laugh.

"Oh, dear Mr Locksley... That sense of honour won't save you from what I have in mind for you if you don't desist of this foolish pursuit of yours. Believe me, others tried and failed. In the end, all your efforts will be proved futile, I promise you. And then, I'll get to drag you along with the others who wronged me."

"Milady, I believe you lack the physical strength to even try to persuade me to move much less to drag me."

"Ah, you are quite right however I do particularly excel at mind games. Do you really think you are safe just because you breathe and have a beating heart inside your chest? Think again! Life is such a delicate, frail condition... It doesn't take much to change it. And when that changes, you might be under my jurisdiction and, believe me, you really don't want that. Next thing you know, you are my puppet and I'll pull all the right strings, I can assure you."

"I'm not afraid of you, Milady." Robin declared, standing his ground.

"Oh but you really, really should, Mr Locksley."

And with that, she disappeared.


End file.
